


The Holmes Family

by VictoriaHolmesWriting



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Addams Family References, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Halloween, Mildly Suggestive Dialogue, One Shot, Strong Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-29
Updated: 2019-10-29
Packaged: 2021-01-06 05:08:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21221078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VictoriaHolmesWriting/pseuds/VictoriaHolmesWriting
Summary: When refusing to dress up for Halloween results in an argument with his wife, Sherlock re-evaluates his priorities and tries to make it right.





	The Holmes Family

“I said, no!” Sherlock huffed, dramatically throwing himself down onto the couch.

“Why no?” (y/n) demanded, crossing her arms and glaring down at him.

Sherlock yelled into his hands before dropping them with continued theatrics. He looked up at his wife, brows furrowed in annoyance.

“Because it’s boring, pointless, and a complete waste of my time,” he explained, counting off the reasons on his fingers.

She rolled her eyes. “Sherlock, this is not only our daughter’s first party, but this is also the first time she has picked out her own Halloween costume. She picked Wednesday Addams and wants us to match with her.”

“Then match with her!” he yelled. “Why do I have to join in on the absolute lunacy of this ridiculous holiday and it’s equally ridiculous traditions?”

Sherlock instantly knew he’d crossed a line, though he wasn’t quite sure what it was. His wife’s jaw was clenched hard and he wilted away from her blazing eyes.

“Besides the fact that you’d be purposefully missing out on an important milestone in your daughter’s life? A moment you will never get back?” she shouted back,l not caring what Mrs. Hudson will say next time they have tea. “Because she’s your daughter, Sherlock Holmes. And that little girl wants her daddy to be a part of a day that she is super excited for. All she’s fucking asking you to do is to put on a pinstriped suit, slick back you hair, and draw on a mustache! That’s it. Now, is it too much to ask for you to do this simple fucking task -- put up with _ridiculous traditions_ for just one bloody night -- AND MAKE YOUR DAUGHTER HAPPY?!”

Sherlock swallowed hard and looked away, unable able to meet her eyes anymore.

“Answer me, Sherlock,” she demanded, no longer shouting but nevertheless sounding just as angry and disappointed.

He steeled himself, closing his eyes to calm himself. Beyond the anger and disappointment even the neighbor knew he’d caused, the concealed pain in his wife’s voice -- the voice of the only woman he’d ever loved -- was like an iron clamp around his chest.

“Fine,” he said quietly, trying not to let his voice shake.

“What?” she asked, completely shocked. She’d been prepared to fight with about this all night.

“I said, fine!” he repeated, forcing an annoyed tone.

His wife knew him too well, however; he could hear the confused battle of emotions going on behind the barrier he was frantically building.

“But just for her,” he lied. “And I’m not going to like nor am I going to pretend to like it when she’s not around.” With that, Sherlock flopped over onto his side so that his back was to her, signalling that he was done with this conversation.

Still fuming, (y/n) closed her eyes and took a deep breath. This was the best she was going to get and didn’t want to ruin it by keeping him wound up.

She grabbed her coat off the hook and walked over the couch. Crouching down, she laid a gentle hand on his upper arm.

“I’m going to go pick her up from John and Mary’s,” she told him quietly, caressing his arm with her thumb. She placed a light kiss on his cheek. “I love you, Sherlock”  
Sherlock put his hand on hers. “I love you, too.”

~ ~ ~

As soon as he heard the door close behind her, Sherlock leapt up from the couch and ran to his wife’s movie shelf. Strategically positioned by the telly, the two-foot tall, blue shelf was designed to look like a police call box -- which was exactly why the die-hard Whovian just had to have it. She kept all her favourite films and video games in it. As many times as she’d seen The Addams Family, Sherlock knew it had to be in there.

He opened the doors and scanned past the Harry Potter series, various Marvel films, and a few others until he found what he was looking for: an Addams Family Double Feature DVD box.

After turning on her PlayStation (which, because of his stubbornness, had taken her way too long to teach him how to use) and putting in the first film, he pulled his chair over. Noting that he only had time for one of the films before his wife and daughter got home, he perched in the chair and steepled his fingers in front of his lips in the exact same fashion as when he saw clients.

About halfway through the film, Mrs. Hudson brought up freshly baked cookies. She observed the curious situation with a bemused smile; an expression that was often present on her kind face when she ventured upstairs.

“What are you doing, dear?” she asked.

“Research,” he replied bluntly. He took the cookie she offered him without looking away from the screen.

She looked between him and the screen, still having no clue what was going on.

“That’s nice, dear,” she conceded, shaking her head. She put the plate of cookies on the kitchen table and disappeared back downstairs.

~ ~ ~

“Josephine,” (y/n) called, pouring a mixed bag of candy into the purple and green bowl Mrs. Hudson was holding, “come show Mrs. Hudson your costume before we leave.”

“Okaaay!” shouted a small voice from down the hall.

The pitter-patter of tiny, frantic feet raced towards them until there was a five-year-old in an adorable Wednesday Addams dress wrapped around the loving landlady. She had her father’s mesmerizing eyes and dark-brown hair (though it was straight like her mother’s).

(Y/N) giggled and threw out the now empty bag.

“Why isn’t your hair in braids?” she asked, running her fingers through the thick locks.

“I couldn’t get them to stay,” Josephine whined. She looked up at Mrs. Hudson, still holding onto her tight. “Will you help me?”

Mrs. Hudson beamed down her. “Of course, dear! Come on.”

Grinning, Josephine took her hand and led her back down the hall to her room.

(Y/N) watched with smile until they disappeared before turning her attention to her own bedroom door.

Sherlock had sat on the bed, pretending to scroll through his phone for new cases while she got ready for this afternoon. She said nothing to try to coax him into just getting ready. That would only have caused several eyerolls and an argument she was beyond not in the mood for.

However, there were several times that she caught him looking at her fondly as she dressed and applied her make-up. And there was something else in his eyes. She couldn’t quite figure out why, but she could have sworn there were hints of mischief and anticipation in them. To add to the oddness of this behaviour, he’d shut and locked the door the moment she left the room.

To be honest, she didn’t know if she should be excited or nervous as approached the door and lightly knocked.

“Sherlock,” she called, “can I come in?”

There was a moment of silence before she heard him walk towards the door.

“Promise you won’t laugh?” he called back.

“What?”

“Promise me you won’t laugh or I’m taking it off right now!”

She was definitely nervous now.

“Alright, I promise!” she replied. “Just let me in.”

Sherlock let out a resounding sigh before unlocking the door and taking a step back.

“Come in, then,” he huffed. “Let’s get this over with.”

(Y/N) slowly turned the handle and entered their room.  
Sherlock stood rigid in the middle of the room. He was decked out in a black, pinstriped suit with a matching bow tie and shoes. His curly hair was slicked back with a generous amount of shining gel -- save for one stubborn, loose strand by his left temple. A pencil mustache was expertly drawn on his upper lip in what looked like her liquid eyeliner. He’d even used some of her eyeshadow to darken under his eyes -- just like in the film.

“Oh my God, Sherlock!” she exclaimed. “You look --” She paused, looking for the best words to describe how she felt about what she was looking at.

“Ridiculous?” he offered, his cheeks getting warm.

“So fucking sexy,” she finished breathily.

Sherlock looked at her in shock for a moment -- but only for a moment -- before recovering. He quickly strode forward and pulled her into his arms. Their lips met in a passionate kiss.

She pulled away, smiling. “You’re smearing my lipstick.”

He smirked and raised his eyebrows flirtatiously. “Perhaps -- tonight -- we can try for a Puglsey?”

“Oh, Sherlock,” she teased in her best Morticia voice. “Oui!”

He chuckled and kissed her again, deeper this time, dipping her as he did.


End file.
